Midnight Oil
by sevanderslice
Summary: Neither Shepard, nor Steve Cortez can sleep one night, so they share a cup of tea and a few old memories. F-Shenko. Companion fic to "Vigil." Takes place in my "Serenade" universe, but can easily read as a stand alone story.


**"Midnight Oil"**

**_Summary:_**_ Neither Shepard, nor Steve Cortez can sleep one night, so they share a cup of tea and a few old memories. Shenko. Companion fic to "Vigil." __Takes place in my "Serenade" universe, but can easily read as a stand alone story. _

* * *

Commander Sarah Shepard awoke with a gasp; heart pounding beneath her ribs, sweat cooling on her brow. A nauseating ball of anxiety churned in her stomach, before finally dissipating as she recognized the relative safety of her cabin on the Normandy.

_God_, she thought, sitting up and scraping strands of damp hair away from her face. How long had she managed to stay asleep this time? The clock on the bedside table confirmed it had been a little less than four hours. Well, she thought, rolling to her feet and padding towards the front of the room, at least that was a bit longer than last night.

Wincing as the harsh bathroom light stung her eyes, she crossed to the sink and swallowed a groan. The woman in the mirror looked just awful. Physically and emotionally exhausted after returning from Tuchanka, Shepard had fallen into bed immediately after her shower, not bothering with trivial things like hair brushes or first aid. Her long, reddish-gold hair was now a hopeless mess of damp tangles, bad enough to tempt the commander to grab a pair of clippers instead of a comb. She was so worn out from repeated sleepless nights, that her dark circles had dark circles and there was a fresh, angry looking scrape through the field of freckles on her left cheek.

Cocking her head to the side, the commander inspected the five swollen bruises on her neck, each with a bloody, crescent-shaped gouge at their center. A husk had managed to grab her from behind before she'd flipped it over her shoulder and crushed its scull with her boot. Scowling at the memory, she splashed some cold water on her face to rinse away the salty taste of sweat and dried on blood. Rusty streaks were left on the towel she used to dry with.

"EDI?" Shepard called softly, while reaching into a drawer for her hairbrush. The tangles were severe, but she was determined to prevail.

"Yes, Shepard?" The disembodied voice of the Normandy's AI replied, "can I help you with something?"

"Who's stationed in the shuttle bay tonight?" she asked, before painfully yanking through the rest of her hair and grabbing an elastic band from the drawer. She then tied the rest of the mess into a loose ponytail at the nape of her neck.

"Ensigns Jackson and Fillmore," the VI answered her question, "As well as Privates Park and Bomberg."

"Thanks, EDI," Shepard replied, sliding on a pair of cotton yoga pants and a tank top. Maybe if she got some time in with the exercise equipment, she could exhaust herself into a few more hours of sleep before they made it back to the Citadel tomorrow. "I'm going to run down there for a bit to work out some tension. Be sure to advise me if anything urgent pops up."

"Of Course, Commander," EDI's pleasant voice complied, "but you should know one more thing. Lieutenant Cortez is not scheduled to be on duty at this hour, but he is currently performing maintenance on the Kodiak shuttle."

Shepard's heart sunk a bit at the news. She'd thought Steve had been able to relax more over the past few weeks, since managing to leave his husband's last goodbye at the citadel memorial wall. It looked like she wasn't the only one on this ship good at pretending.

"Thanks for letting me know," she told EDI sadly as she proceeded towards the elevator. This information called for a slight change of plans.

** o**

Lieutenant Steve Cortez was a thinker. He was the kind of person who would mull something around his head for so long it would either produce an epiphany, or drive him completely mad. More often than not, this particular personality couldn't just be turned on and off on a whim. If something was really on his mind, it wouldn't go away until he'd properly exorcized it.

That's where fixing stuff came in. Focusing on one specific task helped the rampant thoughts settle into a straight line. After lying in his bunk for two hours, listening to Stanford snore like a congested Krogan and Vega muttering in his sleep about someone named April, Steve had had enough. He wasn't going to sleep tonight anyway, so he might as well do something that helped him relax. The Kodiak's thrusters needed calibrating anyway.

"Hey Steve," a familiar voice called to him from behind, startling the lieutenant out of his thoughts. "I know for a fact you aren't scheduled to be here until zero-six-hundred. I thought flying tired was almost worse than flying drunk. What are you doing here so late?"

Cortez powered down his omnitool with a flick of his wrist and whirled to face his commanding officer. She looked even more exhausted than he felt, and surprisingly dressed down in set of cotton workout clothes. In her hands she held a carafe and two thick plastic mugs.

"Hey Shepard," he greeted, releasing the breath he'd been holding. This obviously wasn't an official visit. "I suppose I could ask you the same thing."

"Couldn't sleep," she admitted, shrugging her shoulders. "You?"

"Same," he agreed, giving her a once over. He noticed some angry looking bruises on her neck and winced. "God, are those finger marks? Why didn't you put any medigel on those?"

"Yeah," Shepard admitted, gently palpating the wounds. "Managed to evade a couple of brutes and a full sized reaper, but in the process a damn husk grabbed me from behind. Don't worry though, I took care of it."

"Okay, you took care of the husk, but who takes care of you?" Steve argued, leading her over to his workbench and gesturing towards one of the stools there. She took a seat as he grabbed the first aid kit.

"Hey," Shepard soothed as he pulled out a tube of medigel. "I'm the one who is supposed to fuss over you, not the other way around." She let out a sharp hiss as his fingers made contact with her skin. "You're part of my crew."

"Well, you're my friend," Steve parried, smoothing the medigel across the rest of the swollen bruises and then the scrape on her cheek. "One of very few, so I'd like you to try to stay in one piece, if you can manage it. Alright?"

"Yes sir" she quipped, flashing him a wide grin. Once the medigel was back in the kit, she picked one the plastic mugs up off the workbench and held it out towards him. "So, _friend_; you want to share a cup of tea with me?"

"Tea?" he laughed, but accepted the cup anyway. "I thought everyone on this boat was a coffee drinker, the blacker the better."

"Nah, Coffee's good in a pinch, but I've always preferred tea. Plus," She reached into her side pocket and pulled out tiny silver flask. "This blend comes with a little kick."

Shepard poured them two cups, adding a bit of alcohol to each. Steve settled down on the stool next to her before lifting one of them to his lips. Delicate swirls of steam hit his nostrils and he was suddenly surrounded by the comforting scents of vodka, black tea, and...

"Is this what I think it is?" He asked incredulously, taking another whiff. "How did you get real vanilla so far from Earth?"

"Little shop just off Zakera ward," she replied. "I remembered it being there a few months back, so I took a chance and detoured after our last stop at the Citadel." She smiled, closing her eyes on a sigh as she took her next sip. "Vanilla is a particular weakness of mine. And this is decaf, so you don't have to worry about it keeping you up. Not that it matters much to either of us at this point."

"Decaf?" he chuckled. This woman was full of contradictions. "Way to walk on the wild side, Commander."

"I'm not sure why I got it that way, honestly, except maybe from force of habit. Kaidan and I," she trailed off, suddenly looking a little embarrassed. "Well, when were stationed on the SR1, he and I were the only two tea drinkers on board. We used to share a cup at the end of our shifts. Kaidan, - he's an L2 biotic - gets these terrible migraines from the implant being wired up in his head before human scientists really knew what they were doing. I'm an L3, so caffeine's never bothered me, but even one cup of the real stuff and Kaidan's no good to anybody for hours. I always made sure I got decaf for him and I guess after our last visit in the hospital, he was kind of in my head space."

Steve's curiosity overruled his tact for a moment and he dared to ask, "permission to speak freely, Commander; off the record?"

Shepard let out a full bodied laugh, allowing a drop of tea to dribble down her chin. She wiped it with the back of her hand and coughed to clear her throat. "Since when did this become a formal tea party?" she asked, gesturing down at her civilian attire. "Just say what you want to say."

He stared down at his tea for a second, watching the steam swirl in the cup and trying to form his question politely. "How close exactly were you with the Major?" he finally asked. "James said you looked really shook up when he got injured, more than he'd ever seen you before. I know Alenko was a member of your crew on the original Normandy, and you don't strike me as the type of officer to skirt the regs like that, but when you talk about him it seems like he's a bit more than just a friend to you."

"Wow." The commander set her cup down next to the carniflex Steve had been cleaning and rubbed a spot between her eyes. "Way to pull your punches, Cortez. I think I might be too sober for this particular conversation."

"I'm sorry, ma'am," Steve backpedaled, suddenly embarrassed. "If I'm out of line, just tell me. Your personal life is none of my business."

"No, it's alright." She stopped him before he could get up, placing a hand on his shoulder in reassurance. "I know you're just concerned and it might be nice to finally be able to talk to someone about it. Besides, you told me about what happened with Robert; fair is fair."

Steve rubbed a palm against his chest, waiting for the stab of pain he was so used to feeling at the sound of his late husband's name. He was surprised, and a little disappointed, when it turned into a dull ache instead. Maybe he really was moving on, like he'd promised.

"Have you ever met someone," Shepard asked, "and have it feel like you've known them for years?"

A soft, slightly sad smile, stretched across the lieutenant's lips. "Robert was like that," he admitted. "Met him in an Alliance mess hall on my first assignment after basic. He liked my eyes and knew his way around an engine. Never met someone so easy to talk to in my whole life."

"Exactly," she agreed, her eyes holding that same far away look as Steve's. "Kaidan and I never planned on anything developing between us. To this day, breaking those regs isn't something I'm proud of, but despite everything going against us at the time; the rules, the war, and some really weird shit I'd rather not remember right now, being with him felt as easy as breathing. Eventually, it became as necessary."

"I hear that." Steve agreed simply, taking another sip and welcoming the slight burn of alcohol in his throat. "He feel the same way about you?"

"Yeah," she breathed roughly, before hiding her expression in a deep gulp of tea.

Steve didn't have to ask what happened next. Everyone knew how Shepard had been declared KIA, only to miraculously reappear two years later. How would it feel if Robert just suddenly showed up one day and was working for the enemy? The possible dichotomy of emotions was too painful to think about.

Cortez mulled this over in his mind for a few moments, before finally saying, "You still have feelings for him." It wasn't a question.

"You know," she continued, "I'm no stranger to death, even before I joined the Alliance, and I've certainly had more than my fair share of it. I mean, the whole memorial wall on the crew deck is full of people lost while under my command and we added another name today. But still, when that mech picked Kaidan up and tried to crush his skull against a bulkhead I..." She took a deep breath, gulped another large mouthful of spiked tea. "It's been a long time, not since I was a kid and my parents were murdered less than ten feet from where I was hiding in a crawl space, that I've been that scared."

"Jesus," Steve exclaimed before he could stop himself. He'd known she'd been through some awful stuff, but to have it spoken of so plainly was pretty shocking. "I'm so sorry."

"No, no, _I'm_ sorry." The Commander shook her head. "I'm definitely over-sharing. It's what I get for letting myself drink on so little sleep."

"It's okay, Shepard. It's my fault for asking, right? And I'm really glad Alenko's going to be okay," Steve told her, sincerely. "Maybe you two can make a go of it again. I mean, who gives a crap about regs in a time like this anyway, right?"

Shepard stared down into her mug and whirled the dregs of tea around. "I don't know," she mused. "Maybe that ship has sailed. Maybe there's too much between us now. A lot of things have been said, by both of us, and while he's a lot less angry now, that doesn't mean he wants to go back to the way things were."

Steve looked down into his own mug for a second. All that was left were a few loose leaves and a whiff of vodka. What would he give to have a second chance with Robert, complications be damned? He didn't want Shepard to waste such a rare opportunity by talking herself out of it.

A master over-thinker himself, the lieutenant knew exactly how to get to the point. "So don't think about the big picture," he advised her. "Focus on just one thing. If the Major were here, on the Normandy right now, would you be having this drink with him instead of me?"

She didn't answer right away and Steve could swear there was a slight sheen to her bright green eyes. When she did speak, her response was short and quiet. "I hope so."

The lieutenant's answering smile was full of warmth. "Well, there's your answer." He said. "And I think this calls for a toast." Steve slid off his stool and reached for the tiny flask. Each mug received another small splash of vodka, sans tea this time."

"To those we've lost?" Shepard suggested, holding up her mug.

Steve blinked back the sudden stinging in his own eyes. "And new beginnings," he added roughly.

Their plastic mugs hit together with a silly little clank. "Cheers!"


End file.
